Negotiations
by orphanactress818
Summary: A condensed version of my dream Season Six. Jenny/Gibbs, Tony/Ziva, Abby/McGee
1. The Beginning After the End

Chapter One: The Beginning After The End

"Agent Gibbs, meet your new team."

The four could only stare at each other silently before Gibbs finally cleared his throat and grabbed the three folders held in Vance's outstretched hand. Spinning quickly on his heel, he left the room, almost, but not quite, slamming the door. After glancing briefly at each other, his team followed suit.

Not daring to say a word, they hurried to keep up with their boss' long strides, still panting from exertion by the time they reached their destination—Gibbs' conference room.

Pressing the down button on the elevator, Gibbs tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for it to respond to his command. The moment the doors slid open, he was inside and gesturing for his team to follow. They immediately complied.

Once inside, Gibbs didn't wait for the doors to close on their own accord; he hit the close button and, as soon as the lift started moving, the emergency stop. Spinning around to face his team, he glanced over each of them briefly before clearing his throat again.

His face was its normal blank mask, but the hint of sadness around the corners of his eyes that hadn't left since he'd found out about his boss' death was glaringly obvious to those who knew him, as was the anger that tightened the lines bracketing his mouth. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was _not_ happy.

As one, the team breathed a sigh of relief. If their boss hadn't given up, then there was still hope.

"All right. So, what're we going to do about this bullshit?" Gibbs asked his team, waving the folders clutched in his hand.

Tony sighed, stepping around Ziva to lean his head on the cool elevator wall.

"Boss, you know I'd never question your gut, but this time, I don't think there's anything even _you_ can do."

"What makes you think it's my gut that's talking?"

Ziva and McGee glanced at each other, a passing look that soon turned into a staring match. Blinking, McGee gulped. He knew when he was beat.

"Uh, Boss?"

Gibbs turned to look at him sharply.

"Well, Tony's right. I mean, Vance is the director, first of all…" Gibbs' incredulous look made McGee trail off. Of course. When did a matter of authority ever stop his boss? He should have known a point like that wasn't even worth mentioning.

Sighing nervously, McGee started again, "Ok, fine. I guess that was a stupid thing to say."

"Ya think, McGee?" Gibbs' stare was getting decidedly impatient but Ziva was looking at him curiously and even Tony had lifted his head from the wall to stare at him. '_I guess neither of them had thought of a reason for Vance splitting us up other than the fact that he doesn't like Gibbs,'_ McGee thought.

McGee took a deep breath and plunged headlong into his speech. "Well, this is just what I think, but Vance probably had a reason for splitting us up. I mean, why go through all the trouble to scatter us around the world if he didn't have to? He could have just put us on different teams. It would have been a lot easier for him."

He paused and glanced around at the three people surrounding him. Ziva was nodding her head, comprehension dawning on her face. Tony and Gibbs, however, were still looking at him with mildly confused expressions on their faces.

Ziva looked at McGee and, at the nod of his head, proceeded to explain the rest of her teammate's "theory".

"I think I understand what McGee is trying to say. He believes that the reason Vance not only split us up, but also put us in far apart and very obscure places is that he is trying to protect us. Think about it: at Mossad, I will be heavily protected and undercover most of the time. Tony, you are going to be working on a ship very few people know about that has more security than this building. McGee will be with Cyber Crimes, where agents are not very well…what is the word…advertised? Well, anyway, he will be in the background instead of in the field where he has less chance of somebody recognizing him. And Gibbs, you have a whole new team, a whole new start. This is what you meant, yes, McGee?"

"Exactly," McGee assured her. They shared a smug look before turning to their teammates to see if they had gotten it, only to catch Tony and Gibbs giving each other a similar look, but of confusion. They were both still as in the dark as before.

Gibbs spoke up, "If you two are trying to make a point, I suggest that you spit it out before DiNozzo wets his pants in anticipation."

As if in proof to the deepness of their grief, none of the team laughed. McGee shook his head and Ziva quirked her lips up in a little half-smile, while Tony only managed a weak, "Hey!"

McGee sighed again, this time in exasperation. "Don't you guys see? Vance separated us and placed us in some of the most secure places he could think of without being too suspicious to make it harder for whoever killed the Director to come after us."

Ziva nodded and picked up the train of thought. "We were the Director's favorite team and the one assigned to investigate her death. All of us were close to her. We are the only ones who know the truth about how she died. If whoever planned this wanted to finish the job, tie all the loose ends, so to speak, we would all have large red targets painted on our backs."

Tony's eyes lit up. "Oh!"

"Yeah, Tony, ohhhhh," McGee taunted.

"Shut up, Probie!"

Then they all seemed to realize that Gibbs hadn't spoken a word since the revealing of this thought and all turned as one to face him.

He was angled away from them, staring at a patch of floor just left of his shoe.

"Boss?" said Tony softly.

"Nobody's coming after us," Gibbs said quietly, finally looking up at his team.

"What do you mean…" McGee began, but a swift elbow in the ribs from Ziva and a glare from Tony shut him up.

Gibbs didn't seem to notice his team's reaction to this news, but resumed staring, only this time, at the back wall instead of the floor.

Ziva spoke up. "Gibbs…what did you do?"

Her boss sighed, but didn't take his eyes off the spot they were focusing intently on. "What should've been done ten years ago."

His team glanced at one another, their minds scrambling to remember what they knew about Gibbs and Director Shepard's partnership, when Gibbs spoke again.

"I finished a job."

With that he turned that pressed the emergency stop button again. Refusing to meet the eyes of any of the other three people in the lift, he got off the minute the doors opened, throwing the folders carelessly on his desk and mumbling something about coffee.

His team stood in the elevator and watched him leave.


	2. The Replacements

Chapter Two: The Replacements

Tony was the first to step off the elevator. Ziva and McGee quickly followed and all three ended up standing awkwardly in the middle of the bullpen. There were no new assignments and all the paperwork on the Shepard case—as they had taken to calling it—was completed.

Sitting on their desks, the team unconsciously faced each other as they had done so many times before. But they weren't looking at each other; their eyes seemed to have trouble meeting.

McGee stared hard at the folders on Gibbs' desk before saying wearily, "I wonder what they'll be like."

Ziva and Tony looked up sharply.

"Who, McGeek?" McGee nodded his head toward his boss' desk and the harmless looking brown folders lying on it. Ziva glanced at them, then turned her head away, blinking rapidly, but Tony heaved himself up from where he'd just sat down on the edge of his desk and walked slowly toward them. Picking up the top folder, he turned it around and around in his hands before shrugging and looking up at his teammates. They were already moving toward him.

Tony opened the folder.

"Christian Bandera," he read, "Philly homicide, 34, transferred by superior for unspecified reason."

Ziva and McGee exchanged raised eyebrows but said nothing. Tony picked up the next folder.

"Alina Chavez, CIA liaison for 2 years, 26. Pretty, too," Tony commented, glancing at her picture. Ziva glared at him.

"Is it just me…" McGee began.

"What Probie?"

"Well, the new agents…they kinda look like you guys. And they have almost the same reps too."

Tony opened his mouth but Ziva cut him off.

"Tony, you know he has a point," she said.

Tony just shrugged again and grabbed the third folder. After reading through it silently, his shoulders slumped.

"Colby Rison, tech expert, transferred from the Maine branch," he sighed, "What's Vance trying to do, replace us?"

"Tony," Ziva said warningly.

"I don't think he's trying to _replace _us, exactly," McGee said slowly.

"Then what's he doing, Probie? Huh?" Tony's voice came out harsh and cold, "Go on—grace us with another one of your brilliant brain waves."

"Tony! Stop it!" Ziva yelled. She stepped in front of him and forced his eyes to meet hers. "You are acting like a child, Tony. There is nothing to be done. We are leaving tomorrow and a new team will be taking over. So what if they are similar to us? It does not matter. I am sure _Director_ Vance had a reason," she said, putting extra emphasis on the 'Director' in Vance's name.

Tony looked as if he wanted to say something back to her, but a glance at her face made him think twice. She was angry and disbelieving at the same time and…were those tears glinting at the corners of her eyes?

"Tony! Are you listening to me? We only have today to pack. I suggest we forget about all of this and start." Ziva concluded her tirade with a heaving breath and determined stance. Without another word, she marched toward her own desk and began piling the contents of her drawers on top of it, mumbling under her breath about asking someone for boxes later.

Wordlessly, her teammates began to do the same.

After about ten minutes, McGee sighed and looked up. Tony was still obviously moping, but making good progress on his cleaning while Ziva looked almost finished. McGee smiled. '_You can always count on Ziva to beat everyone else to the finish line—in everything,'_ he thought to himself. He looked down at his own desk and realized he still had quite a way to go. It didn't matter. Tony and Ziva would be leaving tomorrow, but he had a whole other day besides this one to empty his desk. There would be time later.

"Hey guys," he called. Tony and Ziva looked up.

"Wanna go see Abby?"

He watched at the two glanced at each other before quickly nodding. McGee breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.

It was too early to start moving out just yet.


	3. Early Goodbyes and Words of Advice

Chapter Three: Early Goodbyes and Words of Advice

Stepping into the lab, the agents couldn't hear Abby's familiar music playing and glanced worriedly at one another. After a quick round of searching, Tony pointed to the usually cheerful forensic scientist, who had curled herself up into a ball and hidden in a dark corner of the lab with Bert clutched tightly in her lap.

"Abby," McGee whispered softly. She looked up and blinked owlishly at him through red-rimmed, mascara-less eyes. McGee moved quickly toward her. It was always a bad sign when Abby didn't feel like putting on her makeup. Sliding down onto the floor, he pulled her against him and she let out a tiny sob, tucking her face firmly into his shoulder and squeezing Bert hard, making him fart.

Tony and Ziva followed suit, crouching down beside Abby on the floor.

"I just c-can't believe she's g-g-gone," Abby hiccupped.

"We know," Ziva replied, reaching out to rub Abby's back. Abby turned and gave her a watery half-smile.

"At least I've got you guys," she said.

The three agents surrounding her turned so they wouldn't have to meet her eyes.

"Guys," Abby whispered, a sense of dread filling her stomach, "What's going on? McGee?"

She looked sharply at him and, when he raised his eyes to meet hers, she saw that they were brimming with tears. Flipping her head to face Ziva and Tony, she glared at their stony expressions angrily. When nobody said anything, she finally exploded.

"Will somebody please tell me what's happening?"

Tony flinched and even Ziva moved back slightly.

"Abbs," said McGee, "We, ah, we…" He looked at Tony pleadingly.

"Abby," Tony sighed, "Vance is…well, he's splitting us up."

"What!" Abby shouted, jumping up and sending McGee sprawling. She began pacing furiously, talking rapidly to herself.

"How can he do something like that? And on the day of the funeral too! That no-good peanut-headed bastard! I'm gonna run up there and tear him limb from limb! Nobody messes with Gibbs' team!"

Turning wildly, she gestured with flying arms. "I need you guys!" she practically screeched, "Now that…now that…" Her voice broke and she swayed on the spot. Bert, who had been clutched forgotten in her hand throughout the tirade, fell to the ground. Ziva ran up and caught the scientist under the arms before she collapsed, sinking down the floor with her. Abby hugged Ziva and began sobbing anew, not letting go until her hapless victim began making obvious choking noises.

"Ziva!" Abby wailed, "You can't go!"

"Abby, I promise I—"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Ziva," said Tony wearily.

Ziva looked at him and gestured toward the black-clad woman in her arms, but Tony shook his head. It was no use lying to Abby. It would only make things worse.

"Abbs," McGee said, coming over to stand next to Tony, "See, what happened was…"

Together, the ex-teammates poured out the story from when they'd arrived back from the funeral to the present, interrupted frequently by tears and exclamations of anger from an outraged Abby.

Finally, there was no more to tell. All four adults were sitting quietly on the floor, each lost in their own thoughts of what was to come.

"So, Gibbs just…left," Abby whispered, sounding very much like a lost child. She picked up Bert and fingered his collar with trembling hands.

"Yeah, I guess," Tony replied. Honestly, he didn't want to think about the implications of _that_ right now.

Ziva nodded. "I suppose he just wanted to be left alone for a while."

"What do you think he meant? I mean, by the whole 'finishing the job' thing?"

The agents looked at each other.

McGee sighed, "We don't know Abbs. Guess Gibbs will always be an enigma, huh?"

Ziva and Tony nodded agreement. It was then that Tony noticed the time.

"Hey, uh, no offence or anything Abby, but it's almost three and, well, I gotta get home and pack, and—"

He was cut off by Abby launching herself at him furiously. After several moments, she pulled back.

"What if I never see you again, Tony?" she asked worriedly, her brow puckering, green eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "You will. This isn't the last of the almighty Anthony DiNozzo."

Abby beamed.

"Ziva," she said, turning to the woman.

"Um, Abby I—"

She too was stopped by a hug that could've passed for another method of strangulation.

Stepping back, Abby said, "Ziva, I know we didn't really start out all that great, but I like you now and, well, you're leaving tomorrow! So, yeah. I just wanted to say…you kinda grew on me. And I'm gonna miss you."

Ziva felt tears beginning to well in her eyes, but stomped on the urge to cry.

"I will miss you too, Abby," she said simply. After another bout of hugging for both Tony and Ziva, Abby finally let them go.

"Coming, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Nah," McGee said, "I've got another day. And all I really need to do is pack up my desk, so I'll stay here with Abby."

Abby smiled at him gratefully.

"Thanks, McGee."

"Sure, Abbs."

"Oh, hey!" Abby exclaimed as Tony and Ziva walked out the door. They both turned to look at her.

"Ducky!"

"Oh," Tony said, "Right. He would never forgive us if we left without dropping by."

"Yeah," Abby teased.

Tony and Ziva smiled at her.

"All right," Ziva said. "We better go down there."

oOo

"Ducky!" Tony called as they walked into Autopsy.

"Ah, yes, Anthony and Ziva. When Jethro dropped by earlier I got the feeling that you two would be showing up," Ducky said as he walked toward them, smiling warmly.

"Wait," said Tony, "The boss…I mean, uh, ex-boss, was here?"

"Of course Tony," replied the doctor genially.

"Oh, well…"

"I suppose he already told you everything then," Ziva said, interrupting Tony's stammering.

"Yes he did Ziva and, I must say, this is a dreadful turn of events."

Ziva opened her mouth to say something, but Tony beat her to it.

"So, why'd he skip out on us then?"

"Ah, Anthony," Ducky sighed, stepping back so he could sit on an Autopsy table, "I don't pretend to understand Jethro Gibbs. He has his reasons for doing things; they just might be a little different from everyone's else's."

Tony and Ziva also moved to sit on the table across from Ducky.

"But, you have known him longer than anyone else," Ziva pointed out, "Surely you must have some idea of his reasons."

"Yes, Ziva," Ducky conceded, "I do know a bit more about Jethro than the average person might and all I can tell you that you just need to give him time to grieve in his own way."

"But Ducky!" Tony exclaimed, "We don't have time! We're leaving tomorrow."

"And don't think he isn't aware of it," Ducky said admonishingly.

Tony sighed. "Do you really think he's gonna be able to get us back together Duck?"

"I do Tony," Ducky assured.

"Yeah, well, he'd better do it fast. I'm gonna be stuck on a goddamn _boat_ until he does," Tony muttered.

Both Ziva and Ducky ignored him.

"I will miss you Ducky," Ziva addressed the older man, hopping off the table.

"As I you Officer David," Ducky replied, eyes misting over suspiciously.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, Ziva reached over and hugged the Englishman.

"Ahem," Tony cleared his throat after a moment. Ziva pulled back, slightly embarrassed.

"Bye Ducky," Tony said gruffly.

"Goodbye Anthony," Ducky replied, a knowing glint in his eye. Sliding down off of the autopsy table, he pulled Tony into a hug before the other man could react. This time, it was Ziva who interrupted.

"I am sorry Ducky, but we really must go home and pack. It is already very late."

"Ah, yes, well, don't let me keep you then," Ducky answered.

"Oh, and Tony?" he called as Tony and Ziva were halfway through the door.

"Yeah Duck?"

"Just give him a little time. He'll be up and complaining before you know it. Why, in a matter of months, you might be back in this very room bidding me a hearty 'hello'."


	4. Reassurances

Chapter Four: Reassurances

Silently, Tony and Ziva made their way back up to the bullpen. For once, the square of desks were not filled with the sound of jokes and their accompanying laughter; the partners said not a word to each other as they cleared their desks mechanically, storing papers, folders, and personal items in the large cardboard boxes they had each picked up from a storeroom on their way back from Autopsy.

Finally, there was nothing left to do. No more packing to occupy their time, nothing left to prolong their inevitable departure from the building they'd spent so much of their time in during the past few years.

Looking around, Tony sighed. "I guess that's it then."

"Yes," Ziva said simply, also glancing around at everything, imprinting the image of the squad room in her mind. She knew that, at Mossad, such sentimentality would be scoffed at—people got transferred all the time—but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. Blinking hard, she remembered the words that Jenny had once spoken to her. Four words, long forgotten and, at the time, meaningless: 'This is not Mossad.'

"Hey," Tony whispered, interrupting his former partner's thoughts, "You wanna come over to my place, maybe watch a movie or something."

Ziva searched his face and saw no teasing, no flirting, no lewd thoughts flashing through his mind and being projected through his eyes. He really did just want to watch a movie and hang out with a friend before he had to leave. His whole body was racked with a sense of despair and loneliness. Ziva cringed inside. She hated seeing him like this, but it wouldn't help either of them to start getting too close now.

"I am sorry Tony," she said firmly, "but I really must get home and pack."

"Everything?" he asked disbelievingly.

"No, I am only taking a few weeks worth of clothing and such, but I need to get everything boxed and labeled. I will probably have Abby send the rest of my things over when I get an apartment in Tel Aviv."

"Oh." Tony visibly slumped. "Yeah, right."

Ziva didn't answer him, as she suddenly found it painful to swallow. Stacking her two large boxes full of office supplies on top of one another, she carefully lifted them into her arms and moved toward the elevator. Tony did the same, following behind her, balancing his boxes precariously on his knee for a moment to press the button that would take them to the parking area so she wouldn't have to. Ziva smiled slightly at this rare display of gentlemanly behavior from her partner.

The ride down was made in companionable silence; there was no need for either of them to say anything. As the doors dinged open, however, they turned toward each other and both opened their mouths at the same time.

"I—"

"Well—"

They both laughed.

"You first," Tony said with a nod of his head.

"Oh, I was just going to say goodbye," Ziva said, all traces of laughter leaving her face.

"Yeah, me too," Tony admitted.

Both hesitated in the doorway, goodbyes over, but not yet willing to leave.

"Tony," Ziva began hesitantly. She stopped and swallowed. "I will miss you."

"Same here," Tony said softly, smiling wryly. Slowly, he set his boxes down, waiting until Ziva had done the same before pulling her into a hug.

"This is sad," Tony mumbled into her hair, "I've spent so many hours imagining what I would say if this moment ever came, and now that I'm finally able to hug you without you threatening to kill, maim, or otherwise injure certain parts of my anatomy, I got nothing."

Ziva giggled and stepped back, her arms still around the man grinning in front of her.

"Tony," she teased, "Surely you have seen this movie before?"

"Yeah," Tony said sadly, shaking his head comically. "Guy in the movie couldn't figure out what to say either."

Ziva laughed even harder, making a snorting sound with her nose.

"Hey," Tony said, taking in her flushed face and crinkled eyes, "You're kinda cute when you laugh."

Her only response was to hit him in the arm playfully and reach down for her boxes. Tony did the same and, still laughing, the former partners headed their separate ways.

oOo

"Abby," McGee sighed, standing up and stretching his aching back, "I helped you finish the forensics for all the cases you've got and _then _we played every single violent, oppressive Internet game you can think of. It's almost ten already. Can we _please _leave now?"

"No, McGee!" Abby insisted fiercely, stubbornly setting her jaw and lifting her chin into the air.

"Why not Abbs?" questioned McGee wearily.

"Because Timmy, I just can't."

"Whad'ya mean you can't?" Seeing her turning away from him, McGee sighed again and sat back down in the chair he'd just vacated. "C'mon Abbs. Talk to me."

Abby's jaw trembled as she spoke. "Because McGee, if I leave, it'll be, like, for real."

"What'll be for real?"

"You guys leaving me." The usually bubbly forensic scientist's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and tears pooled in her eyes. Sitting in her spinny chair with her oversized lab coat and black dress, her dark hair in pigtails, she looked very much like a lost little girl.

"Abby," McGee said gently, scooting closer to her and tilting her face towards him with his hand, "I promise you that I will come visit you at least once every day."

"Every day?" Abby's eyes brightened and her head lifted. "But, wait, aren't you across the Navy Yard? That'd be, like, way out of your way."

"Well, there isn't much to do in Cyber Crimes," McGee shrugged. "I could make time. And I'll bring Caf-Pow, too," he added before Abby could ask.

She giggled and spun in her chair, clapping her hands. McGee smiled and watched her, happy simply because she so obviously was.

Suddenly she stopped and jumped up, leaping on him and pulling him into a tight hug.

"I love you Timmy," she said into his ear. Startled, he pulled back. As soon as she realized what she'd said, Abby's face began to turn red and she started stammering.

"Well, I mean, you know that I don't _love you_ love you—it's more like a-a something…something…you get what I mean!"

"Yeah Abbs," McGee grinned. "Love ya too."

Yawning, he stood up once more and headed for the closet where Abby kept miscellaneous things, a.k.a. random junk she didn't want to throw out. After digging around for a few moments while a surprised Abby looked on in confusion, McGee finally found what he was looking for. Brandishing the large sleeping bag triumphantly, he moved back to stand in front of Abby and smiled down into her shocked face.

"You'd…you'd do that for me McGee?" Abby's lip quivered and gratitude shone in her eyes.

"Sure Abbs. Anything."

She smiled at him and he momentarily lost control of his thinking skills. Shaking his head a bit to bring him back to the present, he cleared his throat.

"So, um, I'll just get this set up for you and grab a few blankets for me and—"

He was cut off by the sound of Abby's laughter.

"C'mon Tim," she said, shaking her head, "We're both adults. I think we can handle sharing the bag. Besides, I really don't feel like sleeping alone tonight."

At seeing his wide-eyed expression, she started giggling again.

"I didn't mean _that_ McGee."

"Yeah, I know," he breezed unconvincingly.

She rolled her eyes and, smiling slightly, grabbed one end of the sleeping bag. After the bag was spread out, covering a sufficient amount of the floor, Abby sat down on it and took off her lab coat and shoes. Rolling the coat into a ball, the propped it on the end of the bag to use as a pillow and burrowed in. McGee quickly kicked off his black dress shoes and joined her.

The minute he'd wriggled his way in beside Abby, she scooted closer to him and buried her face in his chest. Kissing the top of her head and putting both arms around her, he tried to reassure her the best he could.

"It's gonna be all right Abbs. You'll see. Gibbs will do something. They'll be back. We all will."

The woman in his arms made a mumbling noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but McGee didn't comment on it. As Abby drifted off to sleep, however, her body pressed as close to him as possible, tear tracks still visible on her face, he began to wonder if things would ever be right again.


	5. Grieving

Chapter Five: Grieving

There were many things in his life that Jethro Gibbs regretted, but the events of that day most certainly topped the list. Sure, he had a right to grieve—even he could admit that to himself—but he'd left his team, something he'd promised himself long ago that he would never do.

'_Well, it's kinda late to go back now,'_ he thought to himself wryly, glancing at the clock and seeing that it was close to midnight. Slowly, he stood up from where he was kneeling beside his boat, stretching his aching back tentatively. The soothing rhythm of sandpaper against wood had calmed him a bit, but, even now, days after he'd accepted the fact that she was gone, it still hurt. It still hurt to think of the things he hadn't said, and the things he had.

Sighing, he made his way over to the workbench propped up against the wall and sat down. He'd known she was going to die eventually; he'd seen that report and, even though neither she nor Ducky would give him any details, he knew. She would have been gone soon anyway. But, at least then he would have known ahead of time. At least then he would have had the chance to say something, anything, to make up for what they'd lost.

In the back of his mind, he could dimly recall thinking at some point or another that something like this would happen. It was just too Jenny to go down guns blazing rather than simply sit and shrivel from boredom and a fatal disease. Slamming his fist against the table he harshly reprimanded himself. He should have been there, damnit!

He knew that him being in that diner probably wouldn't have changed the fact that she was dead. If she'd wanted to die, she would have found some way to. Hell, ninety-nine to one, he would have ended up six feet under too, but at least it would have prevented him from feeling so damn guilty.

Guilty about Jen, guilty about that uncompleted mission ten years ago, and, most importantly, guilty about his team. In a little over twelve minutes they would no longer officially be his and he'd thrown away the last chance to spend time with them to wallow in his own grief.

As suddenly as the anger that accompanied the thought struck him, it faded away. He was filled with a horrible sense of lethargy, a depression so deep that his shoulders literally sagged from the weight of it.

Silently asking whatever deity might be listening to help him, Gibbs did something he hadn't done for a very long time. He prayed. He prayed that his team would be all right. He prayed that they wouldn't give up on him.

He prayed that he could somehow find the strength that had deserted him earlier today, the strength that he would need to pull them all back together again.

oOo

Sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor, Ziva groaned and flopped back. Done. Finally. She raised her head wearily and looked around at what she'd come to think of as her home; everything packed up in boxes and ready to be shipped. Pulling her tired body up, she stretched then dragged the last of her packaged possessions to the living room. Running through her list carefully, she mentally ticked off the things she'd done.

'Toiletries, clothing, weapons, carry-on bag: check. Closets boxed, food thrown out, rooms cleared: check.'

Ziva sighed and plopped down on her couch. Everything was neatly labeled and stacked against the walls of the room and an email had already been sent to Abby. Now she could sleep. Glancing at the clock and noting the small hand was already past the twelve, she headed for her bedroom for one last night in her bed before she would strip the sheets in the morning, wash, and package them for transport.

As she passed the door, she heard the bell ring.

Instantly, she was on guard, her head snapping in the direction of the noise and her hand almost unconsciously reaching for the knife at her ankle. Moving cautiously to the door, she peeked through the eyehole.

She let out a breath of relief when she saw Tony's face. Turning the doorknob as she slipped her knife back into its sheath, she stepped out into the hallway.

"Hiya Zee-vah," Tony grinned.

"Tony," she replied tiredly, "What are you doing here?" Then, noticing the faint smell of alcohol that surrounded him, asked, "Have you been drinking?"

"Nah," Tony said, moving to lean against the doorjamb, "Tried. Couldn't. So I came here instead."

Ziva eyed him suspiciously. He didn't look drunk. He just looked…lonely. His eyes were begging her silently not to throw him out and the soft spot she'd gained for him over the past three years wouldn't let her even as the rational part of her brain argued that she should just close the door now.

"Come in," she sighed, gesturing him inside with a wave of her hand.

"Thanks Ziva," he said quietly and she smiled softly at him.

"No problem Tony."

Stepping into her apartment, Tony looked around, surprised. It wasn't at all like he'd expected of her. It was almost…homey. Even without knickknacks or personal items, which he figured were probably all packed away, there was a lived-in feeling to the set of rooms that immediately put him at ease. Turning, he found Ziva staring at him intently.

"Uh, nice place," he muttered, suddenly wishing he'd stayed at home.

"Thank you," she said simply and moved past him into the kitchen. "Do you want something? There is not much left to eat because I threw most of it out, but there is enough to make a sandwich."

"No, no, that's ok," Tony said, following her and feeling his palms dampen. Damn. Why did he feel so awkward? It was just Ziva.

She spun around and faced him, leaning her hip against the sink and crossing her arms over her chest. Tony swallowed hard and met her stare directly, trying to fight the urge to lower his head. Ziva could be extremely intimidating when she wanted to be.

Breaking eye contact first, Ziva sighed. "Tony, please, what are you doing here?"

"I just—" Honestly, he didn't know what to say. How could he explain to her that driving urge that made him want to see her one last time? He couldn't even explain it to himself.

"I'm sorry. I'll go." He moved toward the door, but before he could open it, her voice stopped him.

"Tony, wait."

He turned back to find her face inches from his.

"I…" She couldn't think of anything to say. Slapping herself mentally for even calling him back in the first place, she opened her mouth again to tell him to leave.

She never got a chance to.

Within seconds, Tony's lips were on hers. At first, she froze, unsure of what to do, but slowly, she relaxed and began to respond. She opened her mouth to him and let her tongue duel with his. Without breaking contact with her skin, he slowly moved away from her mouth to trail kisses down her throat and collarbone, biting gently every once and a while. Ziva moaned and, at the sound, he let his lips wander back up to her mouth and proceeded to kiss her breathless. After a minute or so, when both pulled back and gulped down much-needed air, Tony smiled down at her.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while."

Ziva couldn't stop herself from giggling. She felt dizzy and clear-headed at the same time. She knew what would happen if she encouraged him and what the consequences of that would be come morning but, for once in her life, she couldn't make herself listen to reason.

'_I must be going insane,'_ a small voice in her head mumbled. She could feel herself answer back. _'If this is insane, then sign me up at the nearest mental clinic!'_

Smiling coyly, she replied, "Well, what is stopping you now?" Grabbing his hand, she started to drag him down the hall, when he stopped.

Wrinkling his brow he asked worriedly, "Ziva, are you sure? I mean, are you absolutely sure? Because I don't want to wake up to a crazy screaming barbarian ready to chop my head off tomorrow." His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.

Ziva sighed. "I do not know Tony," she said, toying with the hand that she held in her own. "All I know is that _that_ made me forget about everything that has happened lately and I think that is what I need tonight—to forget. I will probably regret it in the morning, but for now, I just need to get through the night. Please Tony."

Her eyes pleaded with him and he understood what she was saying. It was what he'd been unconsciously looking for himself. Not just a one-night stand with a meaningless face, but a one-night stand with someone who knew what he was going through and who needed the comfort just as badly as he did. And so, he silently nodded and let her pull him toward her bedroom.

His last thought before he lost all coherent brain function was that he wished this could have taken place under different circumstances.


	6. The Morning After

Chapter Six: The Morning After

Ziva's eyes opened instantly at 4:00 am, well trained from years of Mossad teachings. Yawning and stretching slightly, she tried to roll out of bed, but felt herself being restrained by something. Immediately, her senses were on alert. The something was warm and…comforting in a way. Suddenly, the events of the day before popped back into her brain. The funeral, the news, the packing, and…Tony.

Slowly, she stopped her unconscious struggling and turned to face him. He was spooned up against her back, one arm flung over her stomach and the other above her head, wrapped around her hair. Moving her legs experimentally, she affirmed her suspicions about them being firmly tangled together. Sighing, she started to inch her way out from beneath his arm, trying not to wake him as she fumbled with the knot that had been made by their lower limbs.

Just as she was almost out of the bed, Tony's sleepy voice murmured, "Where'ya goin'?"

Ziva froze, one leg on the floor, the other still halfway on the mattress. Biting her lip, she considered the possible answers quickly.

"Coffee," she finally whispered, removing her other leg from the bed and wrapping the sheet around her, moving toward the doorway.

Tony sat up and glanced at the clock before he groaned and ran his hand over his face. "'s only four Ziva. Go back to sleep."

Ziva stopped and turned back to face him. Before she could stamp down the thought, it registered in her mind that he looked incredibly young when he was waking up. One cheek still bore the red imprint of the pillow and his hair was tousled and sticking up at every possible angle. He rubbed his eyes with one fist, just like a little boy, and his lips were turned down in a slight pout. She couldn't help but giggle.

At the noise, Tony looked up and really saw her for the first time that morning. Her hair was incredibly bushy, tiny, frizzy curls framing her face. Even at the ungodly hour at which she'd woken, she looked gorgeous. The remaining laughter on her face made crinkles around her eyes and a slight dimple in the left corner of her mouth and Tony couldn't help but smile back at her.

"Com'ere," he said, patting the bed.

Ziva walked slowly to the bed and sat down, the smile leaving her face. Playing with the edge of the sheet, she didn't speak or make eye contact with the man behind her. Tony, sensing her discomfort, waited patiently, or, as patiently as he could.

Not long after three minutes had ticked by, he blurted out, "Ziva, what's wrong?"

She sighed heavily, still picking at the threads on the sheet she had wrapped around her. "I am leaving Tony," she finally said, as if it explained everything.

Tony crinkled his brow. "Yeah, and?"

She looked up at him and he could see that there were faint traces of tears beginning to well in her eyes. Slowly he reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him almost immediately and whispered softly into his chest.

"I did not want this to happen. I did not want to get closer than necessary. Three years ago I promised myself that."

Tony let out a breath. "Ziva," he began, but stopped, not knowing what to say. He would have never imagined something like this, ever. He'd known that Mossad was different from NCIS, but being afraid to care? His heart melted for her.

After a moment of just holding her, feeling the small tears seeping quietly out of the corners of her eyes against his chest, he finally knew what to say.

"I'm not going anywhere."

oOo

The first thing Abby heard when she woke was the sound of McGee's light snoring. The first thing she felt was the cold hard floor beneath the thin layer of sleeping bag currently causing her back to knot up. Groaning and moving one hand to her face, she rubbed quickly and glanced at the clock on the wall. 7:00 am. Good God.

Slumping back against the still-sleeping man beside her, Abby once again turned her face into his chest and thought about the day prior. It had been painful at best. But now that she had passed the hysterical crying stage, she could think rationally and knew that she would help Gibbs in anyway she could to get the team back. She knew it might be better for them to be apart, but she conceded that she was a selfish person and wanted the people she loved most beside her.

"Hey, Timmy," Abby whispered into McGee's ear. He twitched slightly, but didn't wake up.

"McGee!" This whisper was louder and McGee sat up quickly, pushing Abby off of him and almost knocking her head against the table.

"What!" he sputtered, still half asleep.

Abby giggled softly. "You're up," she stated unnecessarily.

"Is that all?" McGee groaned tiredly, trying to stretch his aching back. _'Sleeping on floors is definitely not my thing,' _he thought to himself.

"Yeah, I guess," Abby said, chewing her bottom lip with a suddenly somber expression on her face.

Turning up green eyes huge with worry she asked McGee, "Can we go to the airport and say goodbye?"

McGee thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know about you Abs, but I don't think I will. I said my goodbyes yesterday and I don't think they'd appreciate it if we showed up in tears. Especially Ziva. It would just make it harder."

Abby's shoulders slumped. "I know that McGee. I just don't want them to go so bad."

"Abbs," McGee reassured her, reaching out and pulling her into a hug, "They may be really, really far away, but it's not like they don't have webcam. Well, I'm not really sure about Tony," he added thoughtfully, "I don't know if they'll allow him to bring one on board, but I know Ziva definitely will and you can IM them any time you want. We'll send pictures and they'll send pictures and it'll just be like they're on a really long vacation, ok?"

Abby nodded her head against his chest, but McGee could tell that she didn't believe him. He winced as he ran over his words in his head. He hadn't even managed to convince himself.

After a few minutes of just holding each other, Abby pulled back. She wiped her eyes quickly as McGee turned away and pretended not to notice. The she reached out a poked his bicep.

"Go," she said in a no-nonsense tone, "It's Friday. You start Monday. You have to get your desk cleaned out. And you have to say something to Gibbs."

At McGee's protesting noise, Abby shook her head firmly.

"I know he's private. I know he's going to dislike the fact that you were there to witness his little private tantrum-like thing, whatever that was, but you have to at least say bye. Even if you are only five minutes away. He _cares_ Timmy," she said passionately. Her eyes shone a brighter green that normal and McGee could tell that she was trying not to cry again. "Please," she choked.

McGee broke.

"I'll talk to him Abby," he promised and, even though he didn't particularly want to, he knew he would. He knew that every time his traitorous body would make him want to back out, his mind would never let him forget the woman he still loved standing in front of him with tears in her eyes. She cared, and she knew he cared, and so he would do it.

oOo

The bright yellow cab pulled up at the airport curb with plenty of time to spare before the nine o'clock plane that would be transporting a certain Israeli back to her homeland was scheduled to leave. Opening the door and placing one booted foot on the sidewalk carefully, Ziva hauled herself out of the car door, smiling slightly as she heard Tony grumbling about the price of the damn ride.

Slamming the door shut on his face and grinning sweetly as he gave her a death glare, she headed around to the trunk to grab her bags. Seeing her things mixed in within his made her stomach clench with the same doubts she had been feeling that morning, but unlike during the few hours prior, they went away quickly. Though he hadn't exactly promised anything, Ziva now knew that Tony would remain in touch with her as best he could. It was all any of them could do.

"Hey Zee-vah!" Tony whined from behind her, "Hurry up! You're blocking all the traffic."

Ziva glared pointedly at the empty street behind them.

"Yeah, well," Tony shrugged, reaching around her to grab his three large suitcases and duffel bag. He, like Ziva, would be bringing only what was necessary and have the rest of his things shipped out to a small apartment on the California coastline where he could crash whenever he was allowed shore leave. "If there was any traffic, you and your humongous butt would make sure they were stuck _way_ behind us."

"Yeow!" he yelped as Ziva punched him hard in the arm, trying hard to keep an offended expression on her face but failing miserably.

"Do not make me injure you severely Tony," she growled in a mock angry tone.

"Besides," she called over her shoulder as she strapped her suitcases to the rickety silver trolley the airport graciously provided for its passengers, "You weren't complaining about my butt last night. Or this morning for that matter," she added thoughtfully.

Smiling at his slightly stunned, adorably goofy expression, she gave a little wave and stepped through the revolving doors, leaving him standing outside as the cab that had taken them there peeled away.

"Hey!" he finally yelled as he snapped out of the memories she'd evoked in him. Placing his bags on a trolley, he ran after her.

He found her waiting in line to have her luggage weighed and stored and rushed to stand beside her. She said nothing, only smiled softly at him before she resumed tapping her fingers against the handle of her trolley. He smiled back and fiddled with her hair, which she'd left down today as per his request. They waited as the line moved on, pausing their unconsciously nervous movements every now and then to step up a place and continue their journey through baggage check. They didn't say a word to each other as they stood comfortably close together, each reminiscing over the past few years and cursing each other, and themselves, for not having broken Rule #12 sooner.

Finally, they made it to the front of the line. After a headache-filled half-hour long explanation to the extremely ditzy-looking blond at the counter that no, they weren't traveling together, and yes, they realized that they were in line together, and yes, they knew plane to San Diego would not be leaving for another 5 hours, and no they were _not_ married for Chrissake, they got their luggage sorted onto the appropriate planes and headed off, much to the relief of the young mother with the crying baby who'd been four places behind them in line.

As they headed toward customs, Tony rubbed his head absently and wished he'd thought to bring Tylenol with him.

"God that was a _nightmare_," he groaned.

Ziva sighed and shook her head. "Sadly, I have been through worse. Once, when I was undercover for Mossad, I almost missed my plane because the man at the counter was too busy oogling me to weigh my baggage properly."

"Ogling, Ziva," Tony corrected her, then couldn't help but asking, "What did you do to him?"

Ziva merely smiled enigmatically and said, "Oh nothing. I just helped him realize that I most certainly am _not_ the kind of person he would want to sleep with."

Tony winced sympathetically…for the airport guy.

"Hey, here it is," he said, pointing to the terminal they'd been searching for. The terminal that contained the plane that would take Ziva away from him.

Hoisting the black shoulder bag that served as her carry-on higher onto her shoulder, Ziva turned back to look at her former partner.

"Come on Tony," she said. "Can we just sit for awhile? I still have almost half and hour until my plane leaves."

Tony nodded, not at all ready to let her go yet.

They sat down on a pair of uncomfortable yellow plastic chairs and watched various people place their bags on the conveyor belt and walk through the scanner for several minutes before Ziva spoke.

"Tony I—," she broke off and snapped her mouth shut.

"What is it sweetcheeks?"

Ziva felt herself smile despite the tears welling in her eyes. Without a word, Tony reached over the armrest and pulled her into a hug. They sat like that for a while, not saying anything, until Tony glanced up at the clock and noticed the time.

"You'd better go Ziva," he said quietly, releasing her reluctantly. She looked at the small wall clock, then stood up slowly. Tony stood up with her and together they walked toward the scanner.

"Bye Tony," Ziva whispered.

She put her carry-on down on the conveyor belt and gave Tony one last hug before stepping through the doorway.

Once she was through, she grabbed her bag and turned around to face him, giving him a small smile and a wave, which he returned.

Then she was gone.


	7. Talking

Chapter 7: Talking

The elevator doors dinged open quietly. Stepping out from between them, McGee felt himself swallow nervously. He knew he shouldn't be afraid—it was only Gibbs, after all—but he was. He was afraid that maybe it was better to just leave well enough alone. He was afraid he might say something wrong. He was afraid of possibly losing the respectful friendship he felt that he and his former boss had built over the past five years.

Scanning the squad room tentatively, he was dismayed, and not at all surprised, to find Gibbs already there, seemingly immersed with some papers on his desk and looking for all the world as if it were just a completely normal day and his team would be walking in at any minute. Only they wouldn't, McGee knew, and he knew that Gibbs knew that too.

Though his confidence was just about ready to give out on him, McGee pictured Abby's tear-stained face and took a deep breath before walking purposefully into the squad room.

Gibbs looked up as he entered the square of desks and McGee could have sworn he gave him a small, apologetic smile before turning back to his papers. Leaning slightly, McGee could see that the open folders spread out over the desktop contained the files of the three new employees. He felt a deep sadness threaten to overwhelm him. Tamping it down, he went over to stand in front of Gibbs' desk, clearing his throat gently to get the older man's attention.

Gibbs looked up after a moment.

"What is it McGee?" he asked quietly.

McGee tried not to squirm as he phrased his response carefully.

"Ah, well, you see Boss, um…well, Abby, you know, she's kinda, uh, worried about you. You know, with what happened yesterday and all and, uh, she just wanted me to ask if you were all right. And…yeah."

Somehow the words had sounded better in his head than they did when they actually came out.

"Abby. Is worried," Gibbs repeated slowly.

McGee could only nod wordlessly as he felt his palms begin to sweat.

Just as Gibbs opened his mouth, he began again. "And, well, I'm kinda worried Boss, and I know that Tony and Ziva are too and you didn't even say anything yesterday and…" he trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

Gibbs, evidently shied away from whatever he'd been about to say before, tilted his head slightly and looked McGee straight in the eyes from behind his reading glasses.

"I know," was all he said before turning back to his papers.

McGee sighed, deep and long.

"But, Gibbs, what about Tony and Ziva? I mean, they're probably already gone by now and…"

"I didn't forget McGee," Gibbs said simply, "And I don't intend to. Right now I just need some space to figure things out. Don't worry. They'll be back."

With that he pinned his eyes firmly to his papers and refused to look at his once-Probie again.

Oddly, though, McGee felt relieved as he walked to his old desk and began throwing random folders into a box. Though Gibbs hadn't said much and he hadn't really even mentioned the reason why he'd left so abruptly and somewhat mysteriously the day before, McGee got the feeling that the man knew exactly what he was doing, and that was reassuring. Though it hadn't exactly been the type of "caring" conversation Abby would have approved of, for McGee, it was enough.

oOo

Gibbs walked slowly to the parking garage at a decent hour that night. For once, he'd had no mile-high stack of paperwork to keep him at his desk until well past midnight—by 6:00 he'd been bored. All that he had now were three folders. He couldn't stop the resigned sigh that left his lips as he thought about them. They were still sitting on his desk.

McGee had left a little over an hour ago, after dawdling all day at his desk. He could have easily finished his packing and left long before noon, but instead he had stayed, puttering about and pretending to work on his computer, for which Gibbs was grateful. It had been easy to pretend that Tony and Ziva were only away hunting down suspects with McGee there.

He smiled as he thought of his Probie. McGee really was a good kid. _'Damn good agent, too,'_ his mind told him angrily. It really wasn't fair to stick him behind a desk permanently. He deserved better than that. They all did.

The new team didn't seem as well rounded as Tony, Ziva, and McGee; though Gibbs had never met them in person, he could tell from their descriptions. Sure, they were all hard-workers with plenty of experience and several important awards and promotions to prove it, but they had nothing that made them stand out, no…sparkle.

He remembered fondly the day that he'd decided to hire Tony. The kid's file had said that he'd never stayed at one job for longer than two years and he'd had a track record longer than Gibbs' list of enemies, but he'd had that sparkle, even on paper. That…something…that had made Gibbs want to know more, to find the potential he knew was hiding. These three agents had no such thing.

As he reached for the handle of his car, Gibbs' hand brushed up against something unfamiliar. Instantly on guard, he cautiously reached for the thing tucked against the handle and the door. Drawing it into the light of one of the huge, low-wattage bulbs that lit up the garage, he saw that it was a nameplate.

No, not just a nameplate. _Her _nameplate. The plaque that had hung above her office door declaring her the Director of NCIS. Gibbs hadn't wanted to walk up those stairs and face that door knowing that he couldn't just barge in as he had been doing for the past three years, so he hadn't even noticed that Vance had already replaced Jenny's name with his own.

'_Damn bastard's moving in already,'_ Gibbs spat. Frustrated, he absently rubbed his thumb lightly over the gold-engraved letters, tracing her name over and over.

NCIS Director Jennifer Shepard.

Then, his fingers touched something odd on the back of the plaque. Turning it over, he peeled away the tape holding a single folded piece of paper to the back of the nameplate.

"_She would have wanted you to have it,"_ was all that it said.

Staring down at Cynthia's loopy handwriting, Gibbs felt his lips quirk up. Somebody would be receiving one extra large cup of Starbucks' finest on Monday morning.


	8. Monday Morning

Chapter Eight: Monday Morning

As Ziva traversed the narrow corridors of Mossad Headquarters, Tel Aviv, she couldn't help but note that the familiar sense of homecoming she'd once felt every time she stepped through the building's front doors was gone, replaced by slight anxiety and certain uncomfortableness. As the Director's daughter and one of the agency's top assassins, she received nods of welcome everywhere she went, but they were hostile and perfunctory, unlike the warm greetings she'd received at NCIS. The people there hadn't cared about her rank and skill—Tony hadn't even been completely sure what she had done while with Mossad. She was greeted because she was genuinely liked; here she was greeted because she was the weapon of fear her father constantly wielded to keep his agents in line.

Pausing only briefly outside of Deputy Director Elijah David's door to gather her courage, she knocked professionally. It sounded cold and distant to her ears.

"Come in," came her father's voice.

Ziva let herself in and shut the door quietly behind her. Her father's office hadn't changed in the past three years. It was still in the same small room that for some reason he liked, with the filing cabinets lining the walls chock full of papers, and a cluttered desk in the middle of the floor. With some trepidation, Ziva approached said desk and folded her hands behind her back, waiting. She knew her father would want to test her patience before "welcoming" her, as the memo she'd received the moment she'd walked through the doors had said.

Sure enough, the room was silent for the next half-hour as Ziva stood and her father wrote out what looked to be a very lengthy letter of some sort. Finally, he scrawled his name, capped his pen, and looked at her. He nodded his head slightly at the chair she'd been standing behind in invitation. She sat down and winced internally when she felt the slight twinge in her calf muscles. Three years ago, standing stock-still for thirty minutes wouldn't have been a problem.

After what could be described as a small staring match, Eli David sighed.

"How are you Zivaleh?"

"Well Papa."

He balanced his elbows on the desk and folded his hands, resting his chin on them.

"It seems America has suited you."

"It has," Ziva replied with some trepidation. Her father was not the kind of man to start a conversation with "unnecessary" pleasantries.

He nodded thoughtfully.

"I hear Director Shepard has passed." It was more of a statement than a question.

"What you hear is true Papa."

"That's too bad," he said before turning back to his papers. Ziva could tell that the conversation was over and rose to leave. Just as her hand was on the doorknob, her father's voice stopped her.

"Zivaleh," he called.

"Yes Papa," she inquired, turning around.

He said nothing, merely searching her face for a few moments before retuning his gaze to his paperwork.

As Ziva exited the room, she couldn't help analyzing the brief flicker of emotion she'd seen dart across his face.

It looked almost like…sympathy.

oOo

Tony grunted noncommittally as he looked around the tiny one-bedroom apartment he would now call home. It was the type of place he would automatically consider out of the question without even second glancing at, but, unfortunately, it was the only thing he could find on such short notice.

Besides, it wasn't like he would be spending much time here anyway.

Sighing, he looked around. Everything he'd brought with him from DC would be going with him aboard the _Reagan_ and he'd already arranged with the landlord to have any boxes of furniture and other junk that Abby got around to sending out hauled up to the apartment to await his return for shore leave.

Abby. He missed her already. He could use some of her bubbly cheerfulness right now. Of course, thinking of Abby led to thoughts of NCIS, which inevitably turned to thoughts of Ziva. It had only been three days and already he was feeling hopeless. What if he never saw her again? What if he never saw any of them again?

Making up his mind to send postcards to everyone at NCIS the moment he could, he began to feel slightly better.

Glancing at the clock, he sighed. 8:03 AM. In less than an hour, he would officially be an Agent Afloat. Grabbing his bags, he walked slowly out the door, locking it behind him.

It was time to report for duty.

oOo

The first thing McGee heard as he walked through the doors of Cyber Crimes, or, rather, the basement in which several desks were placed, were the chorus's of "Agent McGee, Agent McGee!"

Great.

He'd only been at his new job for an hour, and it was already blatantly obvious that he was being hero-worshipped from every corner. And, though he might have enjoyed all the recognition at one point, at the moment, it was getting really annoying. He would rather have had Tony's amiable put downs and Gibbs' challenging demeanor than the he-can-do-no-wrong attitude he was currently receiving.

As for the job, it was incredibly boring. Orders flashed upon the large screen at the front of the room and were fulfilled by whoever happened to be free at the given moment. It didn't exactly help that he was without a doubt the best hacker there. It only resulted in pleas for help and much of the workload being thrown on his shoulders.

Where was Gibbs when you needed him?

oOo

Gibbs walked into the bullpen at his usual ungodly hour, only to be greeted by an odd sight. Director Vance was standing in the center of the bullpen with three other people behind him.

Gibbs couldn't stop the small smile that made its way to his face at the sight of them. It was obvious that this was his new team and Vance was there to "supervise" their first meeting. Taking a long sip out of his almost-empty coffee cup, he chuckled at the thought that his new boss was afraid of what he might do.

As he reached the square of desks, he gave no more than a single glance to the four people obviously waiting for him. Instead, he strolled casually to his desk and set his coffee down. Taking off his coat slowly, he hung it behind his chair and sat down. Booting up his computer, he perched his reading glasses on his nose and began flipping through some folders on his desk.

And though those folders contained completed reports that required only to be sent down to Archives, none of the people standing before him needed to know that.

After about ten minutes of annoyed silence, Vance cleared his throat. Gibbs looked up.

"Something I can help you with Leon?"

Vance's cheek visibly twitched at the casual use of his given name.

"Yes, actually," he ground out. "Agent Gibbs, your new team."

Blue eyes roamed over the three agents before focusing again on the man slightly in front of them.

"Yeah," he said, "I got that."

"Don't make this harder than it has to be Jethro," Vance warned.

Gibbs said nothing. Vance sighed.

"Alright people," he said, "Introduce yourselves and pick a desk. I expect you to start work immediately."

With a final parting glare at Gibbs, NCIS's newest director turned on his heel and marched up the stairs to his office.

The moment he left, Gibbs' attention returned to his paperwork and another ten minute long silence ensued.

Finally, an exasperated voice snapped, "Fine! I'll go first."

Gibbs looked up to see a petite, dark-haired woman stepping up to his desk.

"Alina Chavez," she said matter-of-factly, sticking her hand out. Her new boss looked at the small hand that had been shoved directly under his nose, but made no move to take it. After a while, it dropped back to her side.

"Move," he commanded. She took a step to the left. The two men left standing in the center of the bullpen looked at each other sheepishly before coming forward at the same time.

"Christian Bandera," the taller of the two said, making no move to offer his hand. "Call me Chris."

"We'll see," was Gibbs' only reply.

Christian shoved a hand through unruly dark hair and nodded.

"Colby Rison," the other man offered as Gibbs turned to him. Pushing his glasses nervously up his nose it what looked to be a habitual gesture, he swayed slightly from side to side.

Sighing mentally, Gibbs gave them each a good once over, content to let them squirm under his gaze.

Chavez. Short, with lightly tanned skin and a trace of freckles on her nose. She wasn't remarkably gorgeous, but pretty enough and probably turned quite a few heads. Tony's definitely would. She held herself with a quiet confidence that he was sure had been born from the years of experience her resume had stated. Still, she was incredibly young.

He turned to Bandera. The man was almost scarily like Tony. He had the same Italian looks, same boyish grin, same good-natured attitude, and Gibbs would have been willing to bet the same taste in movies too. And yet, though they were remarkably similar, Gibbs could tell that, in some ways, this man was the farthest thing from Tony there ever was. There was no hidden past in his eyes, no lingering edges of something other than a pretty face. Tony had had something more than a ridiculously flirtatious nature, which was what made him a damn good agent along with a womanizer. Christian Bandera looked no more than what he was—lazy and uncaring.

He looked finally at Rison. The poor kid seemed positively terrified. Wonderful. He now had an agent that he was pretty sure had probably never held a gun in his life. He was far more geeky than Gibbs would ever have imagined, with curly brown hair and silver-rimmed glasses.

Rubbing his forehead wearily, Gibbs gestured Alina Chavez to Ziva's desk. He was pretty sure that she was the only one he would be able to handle sitting next to him. After pointing Bandera to Tony's and Rison to McGee's, he warned them to stay put and keep themselves busy before heading off in search of more coffee.

Something told him he was going to need it.

oOo

NCIS's resident forensic scientist was _not_ having a good day. The Caf-Pow McGee had brought her that morning, as per his promise, was long since gone. Usually by this time Tony would have brought her another if they didn't have a case, but Tony wasn't here. She tried to convince herself that they were out in the field and would be popping back in at any time, but couldn't force herself to believe it was true.

She choked back a sob as she clutched Bert tightly and spun around in her chair, waiting for Major Mass Spec to do his magic so she could help another team wrap up a case and then cry in peace.

Gibbs hadn't been down to see her _once_.

OOo

Cynthia Somners approached her desk with a heavy heart. It still hurt to have to remember every day that she was no longer Jenny's assistant, but Director Vance's. Rubbing the side of her nose, she tried not to dwell on it. Damn. She knew she should have stopped for coffee.

Just as she reached her desk, she stopped short. Why was there a steaming Starbucks cup right on top of her planner? Approaching it cautiously, she lifted the lid.

It was her very favorite caramel macchiato. How in the world had he known?

Slowly, she took a sip and smiled. Walking over to the railing of the catwalk, she saw Gibbs and Director Vance engaged in some sort of glaring match. Smiling softly, she watched as they exchanged a few words before Vance marched up the stairs. Scooting away from the landing quickly, she sat down behind her desk just in time to offer Vance a small smile as he walked through the door of his office.

"Thank you Agent Gibbs," she murmured before reaching over to turn on her computer.


	9. Promises

Chapter Nine: Promises

Gibbs let out a tired breath as he scanned his eyes across the bullpen. He'd been right about his new team. They were pretty good, but not what Tony, Ziva, and McGee had been.

Bandera seemed to have taken it upon himself to flirt with every member of the opposite sex he could lay eyes on. But, unlike Tony, who'd had the same habit, headslaps hadn't done the trick. He still kept to his obnoxious ways and Gibbs still kept to his firm belief that the long-term effects of the head trauma would sink in soon. Other than that, Gibbs had to grudgingly admit he was a complete idiot with it came to detective work. He didn't have an uncanny affinity for it, but his conclusions were solid, if a bit predictable.

Chavez was another thing completely. She was studious and hardworking, just as he'd predicted her to be. Perhaps and bit drab and a little uptight for the relaxed banter he was used to, but she was a dead shot and pulled her own weight. At the very least, Gibbs knew she could handle herself when the time came for her skills to be tested.

Unlike Rison. Gibbs' head began to pound just _thinking_ about the kid. He was an absolute disaster in the field and not much better with his paperwork. Sure he was a pretty decent hacker and could provide enough electron information per case to rival McGee, but he just wasn't fast enough. Gibbs knew that if he was going to be stuck with this team, Colby Rison was going to be his main project.

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his reverie by an argument, one that, from the sound of it, had been going on for a while.

"Give. It. Back," he heard Chavez hiss.

"Aww, c'mon Ali," Bandera drawled. Between two fingers he dangled his partner's pen, the very same one that had been in her hand just moments before.

Her face turned slightly pink and her eyes narrowed. Placing both hands on her desk, she leaned forward and looked at the man across from her straight in the eye.

"Don't you ever, ever call me that," she growled menacingly. Bandera simply grinned and threw the pen from hand to hand.

Gibbs groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. At least Tony would have had the sense to give the damn pen back by now, but Bandera obviously had no clue where his limits were, even after almost a month.

"Bandera!" Gibbs yelled.

"What?!" his agent yelled back, having the audacity to look as if he'd done nothing wrong.

"Give her the goddamn pen before I forcibly remove it from your hand," he ground out.

For a second, the younger man looked as if he might say something in response that would most likely result in a call to the ER, but shrugged instead and threw the pen across the bullpen.

Chavez caught it and gave him one final glare before sitting down.

Pushing himself out of his chair roughly, Gibbs called out to no one in particular, "Goin' out for coffee. I expect those reports done by the time I get back or you're doin' 'em again!"

oOo

"Gibbs!"

As usual, Abby's shriek could be heard from across the Navy Yard. But, what was unusual was her tone was of anger instead of her usual unstoppable glee.

"Abbs," Gibbs said wearily as he handed her a Caf-Pow, "What is it now?"

Instead of replying, she slammed her Caf-Pow down next to Bertha and grabbed his hand, navigating them both around Mop-Tony, Mop-Ziva, and Mop-McGee and stopping erratically in front of a large square of bright orange poster board that had been tacked to the side wall of her lab.

Jabbing her finger at the small calendar inside of the board that had squares crossed out with thick black Sharpie, she began her tirade.

"Do you have any idea what this means Gibbs?!"

Her arms waved frantically as she talked.

"I mean, one week, I'll give you. Two, ok. But it's been almost a MONTH Gibbs and you haven't even tried! Three and a half weeks! And you haven't done ANYTHING!"

By this time she was breathing heavily and coming perilously close to tears. Gibbs closed his eyes slowly, but didn't say anything. What was there to say?

Seeing his expression, Abby felt hopelessness engulf her again. Pushing past him, she went to stand by her computer. Gibbs just stood for a while, watching her, but after she closed a few browser pages, revealing her desktop background in the process, he felt that he needed to say something.

"Abbs," he sighed, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her, "What do you want me to do?"

Promptly shrugging out of his embrace, she spun to face him.

"I don't know Gibbs," she said, her voice cracking slightly, "But you act like you don't even care and…and…" At this her voice completely broke.

"I just miss them so much!" she finally wailed. Sobbing by now, she launched herself into his arms.

"Abby," he soothed, rubbing her back, "You see McGee everyday. Tony sends you postcards and you and Ziva email all the time. It's not like they've disappeared off the face of the earth."

"But Gibbs," she whispered quietly, "I want to see them. I want them here. I need them here with me. Writing isn't the same as talking and even though I totally love McGee and I probably couldn't live without seeing him everyday, it's not the same as when they're all here. Gibbs," she looked up at him seriously, "You have to promise me you'll try."

"Abbs," he sighed, looking away.

"No Gibbs," she said firmly, forcing his gaze back to hers.

"You have to promise."

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. After scrutinizing him carefully, she finally nodded back and rested her head once more against his shoulder.

Resting his chin on the top of her head, Gibbs looked into the smiling faces of what had once been his team. Palmer had taken it when everyone was in the bullpen. Tony and Ziva were standing by Ziva's desk, laughing at some inane joke. McGee was at his computer, typing away, but a hint of a smile could be seen on his lips, proving that no matter how much he denied it, he did listen in on his co-workers antics. As for himself and Ducky, they had been captured mid-stride, walking together to his desk. And Jenny…

Jenny had been standing on the catwalk, leaning against the railing and smiling down on them all.


	10. Confrontations

Chapter Ten: Confrontations

Gibbs leaned against his boat, rubbing his eyes wearily before pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn't been able to rid himself of Abby's words or the feeling of self-disappointment that had washed across him when he heard them.

She was right. He hadn't tried.

He was snapped abruptly from his thoughts as his well-trained ears picked up on the slight creak of his basement door opening. Looking up sharply, he let out a breath as FBI Agent Fornell's form made its way down the steps and stopped directly in front of him.

"Jethro," the man greeted simply.

"Tobias."

After searching his friend's face for a few moments, Fornell nodded and leaned up against the ribbing of the boat beside Gibbs.

"Rough month," he commented, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Yep," was all Gibbs said before he began to sand the soft honey-colored wood of his precious boat again.

"Jethro," Fornell sighed, "You can't keep doing this."

Gibbs kept his gaze firmly on his hands in front of him, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge Fornell's words.

"Your people need you. Stop being immature."

Fornell paused for a moment before plowing on.

"You've got to let her go."

There was silence for a moment before Gibbs looked up.

"Dunno what you're talking about Tobias."

"Like hell you don't," his friend said mildly, "You know just as well as I do that the only reason your team's still all over the globe is because of your own damn stubbornness."

"She's not here anymore Jethro," the agent continued painfully.

Gibbs remained silent, but Fornell could tell that he was contemplating his words. After a sufficient amount of time had passed without Gibbs making any move to reply, Fornell let out a long breath and continued with his one-sided conversation.

"So she screwed up ten years ago. Big deal. The point is it's all over and done with now."

By the time Fornell realized his mistake, the words had already left his mouth. Gibbs' eyes immediately found his as he rounded on him angrily.

"Over and done with _what_ Tobias? Her life? Huh. You wanna explain to me exactly how that works? 'Cause the last time I checked, agency directors don't go around getting gunned down by hit men because they screwed up _ten years ago_!"

"She was dying anyway," Fornell said quietly.

Gibbs couldn't stop the pain that sliced through him as he heard those words. He'd known she was dying, he'd known that she would die, and he'd been prepared for it to happen…just not this soon.

"Damnit," Gibbs growled. Slowly he slid his back down the boat frame until he was sitting on the floor. Fornell grimaced slightly and looked from the sawdust the coated the room to his freshly dry-cleaned pants, but obligingly sat down beside Gibbs.

"What the hell am I going to do?"

Fornell shrugged. "Look, I don't even know the half of what's going on. I can't tell you what you're going to do, I'm just telling you you have to do it. That kid of yours down in the lab is running circles trying to figure this out but she doesn't know a damn thing either. The only one who can close this nightmare is you. You have everything—all the info, all the contacts…"

"No," Gibbs cut him off, "Not me."

"Hey, like I said, I don't even know the half of what's going on." Standing up, Fornell brushed as much sawdust as he could from his pants and moved toward the stairs. Just as he reached the top step, Gibbs' voice stopped him.

"Tobias."

"Yeah," Fornell threw over his shoulder.

Gibbs' mouth quirked up in a small smile,

"Thanks."

Fornell said nothing in reply. He simply shut the door and left Gibbs once again alone in the darkness of his basement with his boat, his bourbon, and his thoughts.


	11. Missing

Chapter Eleven: Missing

"Dinozzo!"

Tony turned at the sound of his name being called by a man several doorways down. A man who did _not_ look very happy. Resisting the urge to grin, Tony made his way over to the man. Honestly, baiting the good Dr. Peterson was the only real entertainment he'd had in the past month.

"Yeeeees," the Italian drawled as he leaned his shoulder casually against the door.

Dr. Peterson looked decidedly red in the face as he held up the torn scrap of binder paper Tony had left on his desk that morning.

"You want blood samples from the _entire_ crew!" Peterson hissed. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Nope," Tony shrugged, "I have reason to believe that one of the crew members may be an imposter. I need to match everyone up with the database."

Peterson glanced at him for only a second before making up his mind.

"No you don't," he growled, "You're just doing this because _I_ actually have work to do and _you're_ bored."

"Aw, Rick," Tony said, smiling and clapping the other man on the shoulder, "Would I ever do something like that to you?"

This time, Peterson didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," he said with finality.

Instead of answering, Tony just shot him another charming smile before turning toward the hallway he'd been walking down before Peterson had called him back.

He kept the smile firmly on his face as he greeted crew members he passed in the halls, though very few of them returned the words with any degree of friendliness. Tony had succeeded in making more enemies than friends in the month he'd been on board the _Reagan_ simply because of his pointless snooping and endless questions.

Reaching what had been deemed his office but was really just a small, cramped room he suspected had once been a broom closet, he finally let the self-assured grin drop from his face. Within seconds, worry lines appeared and a look of exhaustion shadowed his features.

Practically running to his computer, he rapidly typed in his email login and password. Scanning through his new mail quickly, he wasn't disappointed. He'd received two new emails—one from Abby and the other from Ziva—and also had the joyous prospect of replying to the email McGee had sent the night before that he'd read but hadn't gotten the chance to respond to.

Settling himself into his chair, he clicked open McGee's email slowly, reading the words again before typing up a few sentences and hitting 'send'.

Then he turned to Abby's and couldn't stop the smile that widened across his face as he read of her latest antics.

"That is so Abby," he chuckled as he learned of her latest escapade involving Palmer, Troy from Accounting, and quite a bit of Caf-Pow.

Finally, having saved the best for last, he opened up Ziva's email and began to read.

_Shalom Tony,_

_I am sorry, but this will be my last email for a while. Father is sending me undercover. I have to admit, I am a bit surprised that it has taken him so long, but I suppose he wanted to be sure America has not 'softened' me, as he says._

_I hope you are well and not too bored. I have to admit that, even here at Mossad, things are a bit dull without your joking._

_I just received another email from Abby as well. Apparently, she has taken it upon herself to send me something every day. _

_Which reminds me of something I have been meaning to ask you. Have you heard anything from Gibbs? McGee is getting worried and says even he has not seen him much. Abby does not say much about him so I am guessing she is mad at him. Can you try and contact him?_

_I miss you Tony._

_Ziva  
_

Just as he was about to type his reply, he noticed the small icon that announced the email had come with an attachment. Curious, he clicked on it. As the image filled his screen he grinned and leaned back in his chair.

It was Ziva, sitting on a low brick wall with the setting sun forming a halo around her. Her hair, curly and slightly frizzy, was blowing freely in the breeze. She wore a tight-fitting dark brown tank top and olive-green cargo cutoffs and Tony whistled appreciatively at the way the clothes fit her body.

_'She got a lot tanner,'_ he mused. Then, grinning wickedly, he hit print.

He waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to another, as the century-old printer that had come with his "office" eeked out a copy of the photo. The moment it dropped onto the tray, he snatched it up and, grabbing a thumbtack from the pile on his desk, pinned it to the wall above his desk.

Sitting back down in his chair, he sent her an update of the happenings aboard the _Reagan _with her smiling brown eyes watching over him.

oOo

"McGee!"

Timothy McGee grabbed NCIS's resident forensic scientist around the waist before she could demonstrate to him her best impression of a flying tackle…only to have her hug him breathless the moment she'd latched onto him.

"Abbs…ca-an't breathe," he managed to choke out.

"Oh Timmy," cried Abby, finally releasing her hold on him, "I missed you!"

"Abby," McGee said patiently, "You saw me this morning."

"I know, but…"

"But it's not the same," McGee finished for her, "I know Abbs. C'mon, let's go get lunch."

After waiting in a mile-long line at the Togo's down the street, McGee and Abby finally got their sandwiches and plopped down on a nearby park bench to eat them.

"Oo n'w wa, Mc-geef?" Abby mumbled through a mouthful of salami and mustard on rye.

"Abby."

"Mmm."

"Chew, please."

Abby swallowed thickly then grinned sheepishly at him. "Oh yeah. Well, anyway, you know what McGee?"

"What Abbs?" McGee replied, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

"I think I finally talked some sense into Gibbs," she informed him proudly.

McGee raised an eyebrow at her.

"What did you do Abbs?"

"Nothing," Abby insisted, "Actually, it wasn't even planned. I was just so, so mad you see, and then he walked in and when I saw him I got even madder and I just had to say something and…and…"

"Whoa Abbs," McGee warned, patting her back, "Breathe."

Abby took a few gulps of air then continued as if she'd never stopped.

"And then he got this weird look on his face and then some other stuff happened, but basically, at the end he finally promised me he would do something and he gave me a hug, so now I just _know_ they'll be back soon Timmy!"

She finished with a beaming smile in his direction then took another huge mouthful of sandwich.

"But Abby," McGee said slowly, his forehead crinkling with thought, "How is he going to do that? I mean, we don't even really know why Vance broke up the team in the first place."

"Gibbs will figure something out." Abby's voice was confident and McGee could tell she had absolute faith in his former boss.

"Abbs," McGee said softly, "Gibbs isn't God, you know."

"I know that McGee," she said toying with her sandwich wrapper.

Her sea green eyes met his and, for a moment as he simply sat and stared into them, McGee was sure they held all the knowledge in the world. The moment ended as she broke eye contact and looked out over the park. Her next words were so quiet McGee wasn't even sure if she'd really said them.

"But he's the closest thing we've got."

oOo

"Goin' for coffee!"

Gibbs' declaration echoed through the bullpen as he headed for the elevator.

Eleven minutes later he was standing outside of the Starbucks around the corner from NCIS, sipping his usual strong black coffee and punching a long-memorized number into his cell phone.

It rang six times before voicemail kicked in.

'_If yer callin' for Mike Franks, you got 'im. Obviously I'm not here righ' now, though. Wait a second fer the beep. If I hafta tell you what to do when you hear it, ya ain't worth talkin' to, so just hang on up now.'_

Gibbs smiled reflexively as he heard his old boss' voicemail message, but immediately sobered. If he had to pick the most important thing he'd ever learned from the man, it would have to be 'always be reachable'. It was the one rule Franks had been truly adamant about and the only one he hadn't broken himself. He always had his phone on him and he always, always picked up. Unless he was being held hostage or something, but Gibbs was sure that hadn't happened. Then again, there was no better explanation…

Where the hell was Mike?


	12. Leave of Absence

Chapter Twelve: Leave of Absence

"Agent Gibbs!"

Gibbs stopped walking and turned to face the owner of the outraged voice making his way down a short flight of stairs with an almost purple face and a sheet of paper flapping in one hand.

"Yeah Leon?" Gibbs questioned when his boss reached him.

"You wanna explain to me what this is Gibbs?" the Director inquired, attempting to mask his annoyance with a film of professionalism. Behind Gibbs, three interested faces peered out of the bullpen. This was much more interesting than case reports.

Gibbs shrugged. "Looks like a piece of paper to me Leon. Don't see what the problem is."

Once again, Leon Vance admirably swallowed his indignation. "Yes, it is. In fact, it's a very important piece of paper. It's a piece of paper that states that you've filed for a leave of absence to _care for a sick family member_." He put as much sarcasm as he could muster into those last words.

Blue eyes bored into brown.

"That's right," Gibbs confirmed.

"Little abrupt, don't you think?" Vance had become used to dealing with Gibbs by now and didn't back down.

"Nope."

A low whistle issued from Christian Bandera broke up the glaring match long enough for both men to shoot him promises to an early grave with their eyes. He immediately shrank back into his seat while his partner rolled her eyes dramatically.

After a moment, Vance both visibly and verbally conceded.

"Two weeks," he said firmly.

"We'll see," Gibbs said equally firmly.

Vance leaned in closer to the older man and lowered his voice. "All right Gibbs. I may not know what the hell you're playing at but, as much as you may think otherwise, I do respect your judgment. I'll get Agent Chavez to take over. You've got one month. Any more and you're fired. Understood?"

Gibbs said nothing, but his silent stare turned from one of cool detachment to one of cool detachment plus a hint of gratitude.

He said nothing, but before he turned to bark orders at his team, Vance swore he saw his most troublesome agent's head give a small nod. Smiling grimly at Gibbs' back, he retreated back up the stairs from which he'd come.

The moment the Director had left, Bandera's mouth opened. "So, wait, are you leaving or not?"

The older man didn't even glance at him. Instead, he made eye contact with his most promising agent over the screen of his computer. After a beat, Chavez licked her lips and smiled briefly. With a slight jerk of her head, the deal was sealed. No questions, no answers; she knew what he was asking and was willing to accept responsibility of the goon and the geek across from her. For a painful moment, Gibbs was reminded of Kate…then his mind flicked immediately to Ziva.

He suddenly realized why seeing Chavez at that desk seemed normal now. She wasn't just a brief and inaccurate reminder of agents past, like her colleagues; she was everything Kate and Ziva had been to him rolled into one. Well, almost. There was still something she was missing, an important something. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he did know that after this mess was cleared away, he wouldn't mind working with her again.

When she was a rising star in the CIA world.

"Hey!" Bandera practically shouted, annoyed at being ignored, "If you leave, who's gonna be in charge?"

Rison began shaking his head sadly. He already knew his fellow agent was a goner.

Surprisingly, however, Gibbs didn't say anything. It was Chavez who answered the question.

"None of your business," she snapped.

"Well, who died and made you boss?" her partner replied, sounding very much like a child.

"Nobody," Chavez said coolly, "I'm just trying to save you from being attached to a basement wall by a stick up your ass."

Bandera's laugh turned into a choke the moment he saw the look on Gibbs' face. That look meant business. Quickly, he shut his mouth and turned back to the papers on his desk.

Gibbs shook his head, but permitted himself a small smile. He'd been right. A rising star in the CIA, indeed.

oOo

He was going on a Mike-hunt. One duffel bag for clothes and toiletries and another for weapons was all he would need.

Destination: Russia.

He wasn't stupid. He knew that whomever Natasha had convinced to start up business with her again would have cleared the old hideouts years ago. But he needed to start somewhere, and heading for the original spots, and possibly her majesty's humble abode if he was sure he could get out alive, was the only diving board he had. He was only hoping that somewhere there would be a clue as to where Mike was and why Jenny had had to die.

Because this smelled like a whole lot more than just revenge. Jenny had to have known something, stumbled across some clue that the woman she'd let loose was becoming a threat again. Why else would a smart woman like Natasha not just let sleeping dogs lie? Why else would she rouse suspicion when she knew for a fact that NCIS was no longer after her thanks to Jenny's generosity?

The few pieces of puzzle that he had began to click together in Gibbs' mind. At the center was Jenny. Mike had said she'd died protecting him. Why? Maybe… Maybe she'd heard something, read something, that caused her to reopen old case files, to begin another hidden agenda. And then Natasha had begun to get suspicious that NCIS was on her tail again. But instead of targeting Jenny, the woman who had spared her life, she had decided to go after all the other players first, starting with William Decker.

Which meant that Jenny… Gibbs sighed and shook his head. Jenny had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damnit. He allowed himself a fraction of a second to breathe before picking up his train of thought again, albeit a little more angrily.

So, Natasha had assumed that all three of them had known. And when she'd seen Jenny with Mike, she refused to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he knew anything (something Gibbs wasn't completely sure about), then he would have to be killed off as well.

It explained everything. Every single little thing that had happened since that day, including the loss of his team. Gibbs knew that nothing could be done about that until he could tell Vance that Natasha was gone. Until then, he had to find Mike…and that file. Because if Mike didn't know anything, that file sure as hell would. Jenny was sneaky enough to hide any new information she found among the old. Or maybe just plain organized enough. He wasn't sure which he preferred.

One thing he knew for sure, however. He wouldn't be able to do this alone. It wasn't just a simple rescue mission anymore. Now that he'd finally taken the time to reason everything out, he realized what he would have to do. He would have to organize a full-out undercover operation with no agency backup. That was fine. But he at least needed human backup.

He needed somebody who could be objective. That meant none of his team, though he trusted them more than anyone else. But who did that leave?

A few minutes later, as he sat on his basement steps for what could very well be the last time, the answer came to him. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he quickly dialed a number he'd once known as well as his own.

She picked up on the third ring.

"Hello. Jethro?"

Gibbs could feel himself smiling slightly despite everything that had happened over the past few months. "Thought you'd have deleted this number by now."

He could hear her laugh a little before replying. "Well, I figured one of these days I'd be getting a call like this. What's going on? I heard about Director Shepard in the news, and—"

"Actually," Gibbs interrupted, "That's why I'm calling. Can you come over here? I… I need your help. Jenny was murdered. The people…woman who did it took my old boss, Mike. If I connected the dots right, I think I know why. I don't have NCIS backing me on this. I—"

This time it was he who was cut off. "I'll be on the next flight out. I take it we're traveling light?"

If he could have, Gibbs would have kissed her right then and there.

"Thanks Holly. I owe ya one."


End file.
